(The first five chapters)
1.
‘Alright boys, that’s a wrap’ the engineer Pat declares. I don’t know where he gets his patience from, the poor sod. You can see the sweat coating his face. ‘Come on, we’ll leave it until tomorrow’ he continues, a hint of resignation in his voice.
He's one of these new age types. Long greying hair, facial beard growth at its maximum and tatty denims to boot. He aint said much all day. It's been three quarters of an hour now and Mikey, our lead guitarist, still can’t get the middle-eight right.
‘Can’t we change that bit Jamie?’ Mikey pleads. About six foot tall with longish black hair he’s always smartly dressed. Unfortunately for him, with his big jaw it gives him the look of the lurch.
‘No we fuckin’ can’t, bonehead!’ I shout back. ‘It’ll ruin the melody goin’ into the last chorus, and besides, just because you can’t be bothered learning it properly when you’ve had three weeks to do so! Please Mikey, take your guitar home and praccy the thing.’
My blood’s boiling. Mikey’s expression looks rather forlorn, after all, it’s Saturday.'
‘But bossman’
‘Never mind that shit Mikey, two hundred quid this is costin’ us! We’ve got one more day to get it right and that includes the mix down. Get it right lad!’
I can’t believe the dickhead. We’ve been planning on doing this demo for over a month now. Three tracks that hopefully sound nothing like the Beatles. Just us. Well, if you come from Liverpool….
‘Are we meetin’ in the Jac?’ a husky voice asks.Robbie, our bass player, is about the same height as me, five nine. Only his brown hair is cropped short and he carries the remnants of a knife wound on his left cheek. It’s probably why he's always unshaven.
‘Yeah man, except for Mikey' I reply. 'And Joey?’
Blonde curly haired blue eyed Joey looks up from behind the drum kit he’s dismantling. He's the one the birds usually go after and at five seven, is the smallest of the litter.
‘Good job kidda’, you can have a lie in tomorrow if you want. Mikey’s still got to get that bit right and I’ve still to do me vocals so you can just come in for the mix down if you want,’Joey’s face is beaming. I know how it feels when you’ve done your bit.
‘Cheers kidda’, what time in the Jac?’,
‘I’ll be in there for around half eight, meeting that Lynne in there’ I reply. Ooh, Lynne, now there’s a sort.
The engineer perks up, ‘Can we make it about ten in the morning?' he asks. 'We can just work the extra hour later. Finish up say, about six’
‘Okay Pat’ I respond. Then, turning to our lead guitarist, ‘Mikey, not bein’ funny mate, but you need to get that bit mega tight. It’ll ruin the whole demo if you don’t,’ I insist, my voice getting louder. There’s that forlorn look again. His minds away. ‘Mikey! I mean it!’
‘I know bossman’ he resigns. His long black hair now blanketing his face, slouched on a stool. I may sound a little pedantic but when you’ve paid your dough and yer want a good recording in the space of two days, then it’s necessary.
‘Robbie?’ I’m bossman, he’s bassman. ‘Good job la, you comin’ out tonight or what?'
‘Aye, you ken I am.’ He’s Scottish. Nowt wrong with that it’s just all this pressure really
